


bottom of the river

by Pandolphin



Category: Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Act 2 Spoilers, Gen, Leading into Act 3 Spoilers, a songfic in the year of our lord 2019???, it's Veronica-centric so You Know Why, it's more likely than you think, the hero's name is Nova
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 10:26:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20599226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandolphin/pseuds/Pandolphin
Summary: it's a long way down





	bottom of the river

**Author's Note:**

> this was written as a prompt for @thechavanator on tumblr from a prompt list. one of the two prompts they chose was "river" and it... ran away from me, so to speak, and now we have this, which is essentially a songfic loosely set to Bottom of the River by Delta Rae. I know it's probably not what you were expecting Chel, but I hope you like the Southern Gothic witch trial aesthetic!
> 
> I had to pump this out at light speed before dq11s comes out and ruins all the premises for this so keep that in mind for when Homirin comes into my house and beats me with a baseball bat

_ooh baby, it’s a long way down to the bottom of the river_

Yggdrasil crumbling around her, Veronica rises to her knees.

“I have to do something…”

She isn’t sure how she knew it would come to this. Arguably, she didn’t know, not for sure--it was just a bad feeling, a notion she should have trusted more but didn’t want to indulge. She had to have faith in the Luminary, and she did. She always did, and always would. 

“You’re the only ones who can save this world! Don’t let me down!”

Of course she wouldn’t let them go alone. She couldn’t. How else would she know they made it safely out of the storm? Parts of her would go with them, magic made manifest in their souls--never touching, but guiding them still. Pulling them all together once more, like magnets on different poles, to try, try again, until the light shone down once more.

And that was why this had to happen. That was why she could let them all go with a smile, and hope still strong in her heart.

_Hold my hand_, Veronica thinks, raising them all to the sky. 

_Hold my hand_, Veronica pleads, sending them off far, far away. 

“You’ll have to go on without me, Serena… Look after the Luminary…”

_It’s a long way down._

And She falls. 

And she falls.

_if you get sleep, or if you get none _ **(the cock’s gonna call in the morning, baby)**

Erik refuses to wake.

Veronica wishes she could shake him a little bit. Maybe sit on him, or plug his nose until he snapped awake and then snapped at her. Harmless rough-housing and petty arguing, like they’d always done. It was their favorite past-time with one another. But she can’t, and she wishes it was only because she was a spirit.

His sleep is restless, feverish and pained, and Veronica is rightfully terrified by how distraught he looks, because it is so not the Erik she knows. She waves a spectral hand over his forehead, and catches glimpses. Nightmares. Crushing loneliness, hardships Veronica had only read about in storybooks, oceans of pure gold swallowing all of them whole--Nova and a girl she’s never seen are always the last to be taken, arms reaching out for Erik to help them, and when they vanish beneath the shimmering waves Veronica can feel Erik’s despair as if it were her own. 

Even a fraction of her spirit can’t handle this darkness, but Erik is whole and human still, and is falling to pieces before her eyes. Veronica wonders how long it’s been like this, for him.

She keeps her hand over Erik’s forehead, while the other reaches for his hand, clutching at his chest.

She wonders if she’s doing him a favor. Memories shouldn’t be forgotten, even the sad and painful ones. Maybe that’s easy for her to say when they aren’t her memories. But forgetting doesn’t mean it never happened. The wounds are still fresh, and his heart still bears the scars. Veronica can’t make those disappear, even if she had half the healing potential as her sister--but she can hide them away until he’s ready to face them again. 

“Hold my hand,” she says, and as the wisps of her magic flow into him, Erik starts to still, his dreams going blank, “I can’t make it all better. But when you’re ready to remember, I’ll be right here with you.”

_check the cupboard for your daddy’s gun_ **(red sun rises like an early warning)**

Rab has seen too many falls in his lifetime.

Veronica regrets bringing him back to Dundrasil. It was the safest place she had for him, but there’s no avoiding the salt in the wound. Witnessing the destruction of their world’s source of life wasn’t exactly how she would have wanted to spend her retirement, either, and it’s painfully clear the toll is taxing on the old man’s shoulders.

Rab is before the King and Queen’s memorial. Kneeling. Praying. Willing back his tears and steeling himself for what’s to come. Hope still shines in him, though, and she could feel that from miles away. And for that, Veronica is grateful.

“Eleanor, Irwin… it’s going tae be a wee bit longer, ‘fore we settle everything.” Rab sighs with a heavy heart, but heavier determination. “We’ll get there yet. It all looks bleak, t’ be sure. But, I know yer boy well now. I know the kind of man he’s become. He doesn’t give up easily, that one, oh no. We’ll get it right, this time.”

Veronica smiles. Hope still shines in him, yes--but hearing aloud it is nice.

“Now. I cannae sit on my laurels while my grandson does all the work. There might not be much an auld man like me can do tae help... but, I’ll just have to give it the ol’ college try. And I know just the place for it.” 

He stands up, slowly, and reaches for his cane. “I’d best be goin’, ‘fore it gets too dark. It’s a long way to Angri-La from here. Nova and I’ll be back before long, jus’ you wait.”

Veronica frowns. As he said, Angri-La was a far cry from Dundrasil. She may have kept them safe on the way down, and while Rab is the strongest old man she’s ever met, he’s still an old man on his own in a dangerous, dark new Erdrea. He’s going to need a few pushes here and there to get all the way up the mountain.

She places her hand over Rab’s, curling around the handle of his cane.

“Hold my hand,” she says, and as the wisps of her magic flow into him, Rab feels his legs strengthen, his speed growing, “It’ll be a long walk. But I’m with you every step.”

_the lord’s gonna come for your firstborn son_ **(his hair’s on fire and his heart is burning)**

Sylvando has a fire within him that cannot not be smothered.

It’s still burning as Veronica watches him lead the parade, bringing smiles to townsfolk. Most begin to feel at ease again, and many others then are moved. Veronica sees the way their hearts began fill and glow with courage. Sylvando has always had a way with folks, inspiring them as naturally as the rain fell. They’re drawn to him, always have been, and she is certainly no different. He just… knows. He knows, and he understands, and he is exactly what the world needs right now.

She isn’t surprised that he’s already back on his feet when she gets to him. Sylvando has the heart and soul and passion of the most honorable of knights, and perhaps his chosen path is unconventional for it, there is no doubt it brings results.

The feathers are an interesting new addition, though. Oh, to have the gravitas of a domesticated goose.

Still Sylvando is human, and is troubled no less than anybody else right now. His steps don’t falter, and his flame doesn’t burn out, but it does flicker, here and there. Behind his smile, he’s worried. About his friends. About their home. About their future. Sylvando is a strong and noble man, but not even he has the strength of a thousand men.

Thankfully for him, he doesn’t have to, and Veroncia places her hand on his, over the fan he’s twirling like a lifeline.

“Hold my hand,” she says, and as the wisps of her magic flow into him, the fire in Sylvando’s heart is fanned with every swipe of the fan in his hand. “All the world’s our stage, honey.”

_so go to the river where the water runs_ **(wash him deep where the tides are turning)**

Jade is easily the most competent among them all.

In many ways, Veronica isn’t too worried about her. She’s much like Rab, her faith in Nova never once showing signs of faltering, and only growing stronger when she learned he was still alive. Her devotion to her brother is tied so closely to her soul that, even now, far from him and all the others, Jade knows he still breathes, somewhere. So it’s good that Veronica doesn’t have to fix that problem.

Her father, though, is a different story.

It had been easy to forget that Jade was, and still is, a princess. It had been one thing for Nova, who had never known and never been raised as such--who, until meeting his grandfather, thought his claim to the throne had been a mistake--but Heliodor still stood far off in the distance. It still stood, with a pretender on the throne wearing her father’s skin, and Veronica can’t even begin to imagine what’s going on in Jade’s heart at the thought.

Actually, that’s a lie. Veronica can clearly see what is going on in Jade’s heart, and what that thing is, is punching.

Jade mows through monsters like a woman scorned--which she is, Veronica supposes. She’s far from a brutish person, but even a princess is not without her frustrations. Would this all have happened, if Jade had been stronger? In truth, probably. But as much as it angers her, Jade isn’t one to give up. She’s come this far, faith stronger than ever, and she shows no signs of stopping as she makes her way to Octagonia.

Veronica clasps her hand around her fist. King Carnelian won’t go down easy. Nova won’t go down easy. Her family is tough to kill, and Jade is no exception.

“Hold my hand,” she says, and as the wisps of her magic flow into her, Jade’s strikes land swift and true, “We’re going to get your family back. No matter what.”

_the wolves will chase you by the pale moonlight_ **(drunk and driven by a devil’s hunger)**

Hendrik isn’t an enemy.

Truth be told, she’d had an inkling of that in the Snaerfelt. Krystalinda’s words had left that mountain of a man shaken, and even though their priority had been Sniflheim’s safety, Veronica couldn’t get the image of Hendrik, clutching at the pendant around his neck like a desperate prayer, out of her mind. Prayers left unanswered and tossed aside that day on the World Tree.

She follows behind him now, gathering survivors and bringing them to safety. It’s tiresome, disheartening work, but all Hendrik has right now is his oath as a knight and his will to make things right again. Such is his will that he’s wandered all around the hills of Heliodor, and so strong is his determination that those that have lived follow him to safety. Even if it had not been King Carnelian’s request of him, Veronica is sure he would be doing it anyway. That was just the sort of person he was.

He is a fool, perhaps, too earnest and noble and loyal for his own good--but he isn’t an enemy.

Hendrik is carrying a little girl in his arms. She had run into a church, looking for help, and had found only death in the house of the Almighty. But he had caught her before she could fall victim alongside the others, and now she clings to him, hands fisting in his tunic, and tear-stained face buried in his shoulder.

One of his hands rests on the girl’s shoulder, to keep her steady, and Veronica places her own over his. Everyone is scared, but the great Sir Hendrik has never once let them down. And he will not, if she has anything to say about it.

“Hold my hand,” she says, and as the wisps of her magic flow into him, Hendrik’s resolve strengthens, and he cradles the little girl closer, “We’re going to save everyone this time. On your honor as a knight.”

_drive your son like a railroad spike_ **(into the water, let it pull him under)**

Nova sleeps, not quite safe but sound enough, beneath the waves.

Veronica really wants to laugh. The fish disguise is necessary, and clever, but it’s also downright hilarious. His lips are way too big, and his eyes still way too human. It’s jarring. It’s funny. It’d be funnier if he was awake.

He’s every bit the mirror image of Erik. Where Erik’s sleep was restless and feverish and plagued by darkness, Nova sleeps silent, still, dreaming of peaceful days in his quiet little home in the country. Even thousands of miles and poles apart, they compliment each other perfectly. Veronica would puke at the thought, if she could.

She sits on his bed. It all feels too similar to the Snaerfelt, her at Nova’s side while he slept like the dead. Were it not for the gentle flutter of fins, and the fact that she can now see the boy underneath the scales, a spirit like herself, she might have thought he’d passed on with her. But Veronica is the best mage in her class. She wouldn’t make a rookie mistake like that. Not for this. Not for the Luminary. Not for her friend.

It’s strange. When she thinks back to the Snaerfelt, she still doesn’t know why she acted the way she had. Of course she was worried--why wouldn’t she be? But so strong just then, and no other times? It’s baffling. She wonders if it was Serenica living through her; her ancestor had loved Erdwin, after all. Was there something in seeing Nova bedridden, that had awakened a memory in her spirit? 

Veronica brushes her hand against Nova’s spectral cheek; her other goes to clutch his hand. His spirit still bears the mark of the Luminary, so that’s a relief, and if she concentrates enough, she swears she can feel him.

She isn’t sure what Serenica wanted her to see. She isn’t sure what Serenica wanted her to feel. But she does know one thing--she does love Nova, and now before he is the Luminary, he is her friend. Neither is more important than the other, but all the more reason to help him rise again.

“Hold my hand,” she says, and as the wisps of her magic flow into him, Nova begins to stir, “You’ll have to smell the ashes for a bit. But it’s nothing we can’t set right.”

_don’t you lift him, let him drown alive _ **(the good lord speaks like a rolling thunder)**

Serena is her greatest regret.

It isn’t that Veronica doesn’t believe in her--of everyone, Serena is probably the one she believes in the most, second only to Nova for obvious reasons. But she wishes she’d been able to say more, back then. She wishes she’d told Serena of her premonitions, wishes she’d been able to leave her with peace of mind, rather than just one wand and a world of troubles. She wishes Serena didn’t have to carry out their fated duty on her own.

Veronica knows she can do it. But she wishes she didn’t have to.

Serena cries. She cries in Nova’s arms, and Nova comforts her as best he can, and tries not to cry with her. They’re so alike now, having loved so many and lost so much, and Veronica’s heart twists in two. Of course she knew this would happen; they all had to know what became of her, after all, but Serena’s tears were meant to fall for silly things, like a failed fireball or a sad novel read by candlelight. Of course they would fall for Veronica--but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

Serena is strong, though. Stronger than she looks, stronger than she knows, and Veronica can see that clear as day. And when she pulls away from Nova, and asks him for his knife, Veronica can finally put her plan into place.

The pieces of her soul that had followed her companions flow back into Veronica. Her ghost walks with purpose, and her hand falls on Serena’s, grasping the dagger to the base of her neck.

Serena slices up--away falls the blonde cascade, out of her hands, and into the night sky. The strands burn away into ash, and her hand still holding her sister’s, Veronica smiles.

“Hold my hand,” she says, and as the full force of her magic flows into her, Serena’s fingers begin to spark, and her heart fills with stars, “I’ll never let you go again.”

_let that fever make the water rise_ **(and let the river dry)**

Serenica isn’t what she expected.

Veronica imagines, if anybody else had been able to see the woman within the spirit, they also would have been surprised. She isn’t sure how she knows that it’s her ancestor speaking to them all, but just like how she knew Nova was the Luminary on that fateful day so long ago, she knows. She knows, and she does not like what the Timekeeper is saying.

When Jade had brought up the possibility, the slim chance of reviving her, the parts of Veronica still left on the earth and living in Serena were struck with caution. Of course she would want to return--if her friends won’t cheer up and celebrate over their victory, she would make them celebrate--but there is very little about the idea of reversing time that sounds good. She’d feel that way even if she wasn’t dead, frankly, and watching Serenica’s spirit, devoid of any memory or emotion, explain the risks and rewards of such an action, Veronica knows she’s justified.

Nova can only go alone.

Veronica hears and sees the hearts of her friends. Erik’s drops to the floor at his feet. Rab’s breaks and pleads for mercy. Sylvando’s burns its candle at both ends. Jade’s kicks and screams. Hendrik’s curses every deity it knows. Serena’s cries out in agony. And Nova’s…

No. Veronica already knows.

He doesn’t want to do this. He knows it isn’t what Veronica would want, and he’s right, she doesn't want that, but more than that, he and she both know there’s more than just her soul at stake. As the Luminary, it’s his destiny to banish the darkness. As the Luminary, it’s his destiny to set things right. By any means necessary.

Veronica knows that too, and so dearly wishes it wasn’t true.

His decision made, Nova steps towards Time’s Sphere, Sword of Light in hand. And while he can’t see her, Veronica is right there with him, her hand in his. He may be going alone, but she’ll make sure he gets where he needs to be. And when he gets there, she’ll make sure her face is the first one he sees.

When he brings the blade down on the sphere, they do it together.

“Hold my hand,” she says, and for the briefest second, before everything goes white, she swears that Nova squeezes her hand back, “It’s a long way down.”

**Author's Note:**

> hewwo I'm panda my dq tumblr is swindlersstole and i scream about luminerik every day hmu


End file.
